


Real Housewives of the American Revolution

by MonticellowMarshmallow



Category: American History - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda, founding fathers - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, lol ya'll this is pure silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonticellowMarshmallow/pseuds/MonticellowMarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Eagle Scream Estates, a lovely suburban development, home to Alexander Hamilton…and America’s other founders too. It’s a great place to live and raise a family…just don’t ask what Ben Franklin is up to, don’t eat Thomas Jefferson’s cooking, and never, ever enter the library of John Adams without permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Code Green

**Author's Note:**

> This idea, like so many other acts of genius, was born via group chat with some awesome people. I will add their tumblr urls later/if the want me to but I want to surprise them with this right now cause it has been a long time in the making. Basically, we decided a modern AU of the founding fathers would be hilarious if set in a development.

The Real Housewives of the Revolution 

Chapter 1: Code Green

The fifteen-passenger van blasted up the driveway of the middle school at a very dangerous speed, and Principal Howe already had a headache. He peered out between the blinds as the violently green vehicle parked, half on the curb. Its driver emerged, and slammed the door shut. This was the sixth time in two weeks. 

The door to his office opened and an incredibly flustered secretary entered. 

“Sir, we…we have another…Code Green,” he said and pointed a shaking finger out of the window at the man quickly approaching the school in an awkward white person half-run. 

Principal Howe closed his eyes and sighed a deep, long sigh that seemed to hold a good 89% of the world’s frustration. Ride of the Valkyries and Dies Irae played simultaneously in Howe’s mind. The sixth time in two weeks.

“Try to defuse him with paperwork. I’ve just made these official complaint forms that now must be filled out before I am to speak with anyone. Give him one and let us hope for the best,” Howe said after taking a sip…chugging the remainder of his coffee. It may or may not have been laced with vodka. 

His secretary frowned, “You want me to…I have to speak with him?”

“Yes, man! Do this thing!” Howe replied doing his best to look stoic and ready. 

Howe’s secretary slunk away no doubt cursing the day he was born with every step. 

-

Alexander Hamilton, of 1772 Eagle Scream Estates, approached the school—a man on a mission. He received word that his son John was not allowed to participate in soccer practice the pervious evening because the boy forgot his uniform. John was very mildly upset, nothing his favorite TV show and one of Dolley Madison’s cookies couldn’t fix. However, Alexander took it upon himself to draft a twelve-page essay on why uniforms should not be required for soccer practice that he intended to present to one Principal Howe as soon as possible. He entered the school and two teachers who had just come out of the teachers lounge disappeared back inside of the room, their eyes wide with fear. 

Alexander approached the office, was handed a form at the window and told to sit in the waiting area please. This information was delivered quickly before the wide-eyed secretary actually slid the window shut and ducked down under the desk. Indeed, the whole exchanged happened so fast that the form was thrown in the form a paper airplane which Alexander caught and unfolded.

“Formal complaint sheet?” He mused. Alexander then tapped on the window and learned forward so his nose was pressed up against the glass. He could just see the secretary’s leg sticking out from under the desk. He tapped on the window again and the leg vanished out of sight. 

“I need a pen,” Alexander said. “What the hell!? I know you’re there!” He exhaled onto the glass and wrote ‘pen’ on the window. 

Alexander did NOT in fact need a pen as he carried a set of them around with him everywhere. The pens had their own case and were organized by color, width and ink intensity. They also bore his name and a little engraving of a unicorn. The Marquis de Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan gave them to him one Christmas when it was too early in the morning to be drunk…but they were. 

After tapping on the window chanting ‘pen’ for about three minutes, Alexander shrugged, took a seat and began filling out the form. Despite only being a double-sided sheet, the paper contained 56 questions, some of which appeared to be from an internet personality quiz that revealed your tea drinking personality. He filled out the questions and became annoyed because there was not enough space to sufficiently answer the questions on the form. He took a few pages out of his notebook and continued. One hour later, Alexander was on question 37: ‘where do you see yourself in 3.5 months’, when the door to the office opened.

“Jefferson,” Alexander said in a tone that implied an attitude just unfavorable enough to seem impolite but not too impolite because Alexander needed James Madison’s advice on decorating the house for Halloween in order to sneakily beat Jefferson for a solid second place (since Madison always won). But if he pissed Jefferson off too much, Jefferson would convince Madison not to talk to him and all of the time Alexander put into hanging out with the little weirdo would all be for naught because for some unknown reason Madison always sided with Jefferson. 

“Hamilton,” replied Jefferson in a way that reminded Alexander of the feeling of when its hot outside and your legs stick to a leather seat, but you can’t let on how uncomfortable you are because you are trying to impress your house guests. 

“I thought I heard your…van. Are they still called vans? I haven’t been bothered with such things since I was a child because vehicles like that omit such a large carbon footprint. The air pollution nowadays is just off the charts. I was reading in Nature…that’s a scientific journal, you probably haven’t heard of it…But the-

“Thomas, I’m a bit busy,” Alexander replied and motioned to the paperwork. 

Jefferson had a tennis sweater draped around his shoulders. Alexander physically struggled to bite back a scathing comment, but he needed Madison. He liked Madison enough, but the man was odd. Alexander didn’t go to three book sniffing classes and a bug collecting convention to give in to that kale licking asshole at the end of the lane, as Jefferson was affectionately known as by Alexander’s friends. 

“Oh I’m busy too. I’ve just accepted my nomination for president of the school board. I beat Adams,” Jefferson replied and laughed lightly like the annoying southern gentleman he liked to remind everyone that he was. “I should tell you about it. I-

“Right. BYE,” Alexander stood up from his seat, walked quickly over to the window and shoved the form up against the glass. He had enough of the form and certainly enough of Jefferson. 

He found that the door learning into the secretary’s office was unlocked and he went through. The secretary popped out from under the desk.

“Sir, SIR! Mr. Hamilton, you can’t just go in there! Principal Howe said that-

But Alexander ignored him and pushed open door to Howe’s office with his foot. The sound of Tibetan chants and wind chimes assaulted his ears and Principal Howe looked up from where he sat on the floor, meditating. 

“I’m sorry Principal Howe, I tried to tell him but-“

“Its fine,” Howe said calmly. “You may leave us now.”

Alexander sat down in one of the plush office chairs. 

“Mr. Hamilton, I have been expecting you. Now what grievance do you have for me today?” Howe asked. He stood up and took a sip of water from a bottle labeled ‘rejuvenation’. 

“Principal Howe, I was informed that my son was excluded from soccer practice because he forgot his uniform,” Alexander took his essay out of his bag. “I’ve written this as to why uniforms for practice are unnecessary and I would like you to review it now and I read. I’ve printed off a copy for you as well.” 

Howe accepted the paper and nodded; a small, thin smile was plastered on his face. 

Three hours later 

“…And if you look at footnote 25, you will see I’ve cited the history of middle grade sporting activates as reference. This should be sufficient to…”

Howe’s expression had not changed. This was the sixth time in two weeks. Howe practiced breathing exercises. 

Five hours later 

“AND IF YOU THINK ITS ACCEPTABLE TO PUNISH A YOUNG BOY FOR A SIMPLE OVERSIGHT SUCH AS THIS…LACK OF PHYSICAL EXERCISE IS WHAT IS CONTRIBUTING TO CHILDHOOD OBESITY. DO YOU NOT CARE ABOUT THE CHILDREN, SIR? DO YOU…”

Howe was ready to enact his plan. Operation ‘Escape the Battle Fort’ was GO. 

The entire school day later

“And THAT concludes my essay on why children should NOT have to wear a uniform for practice,” Alexander said. He stepped down from the chair he did not remember standing on and looked to Howe for a reaction. 

Howe’s expression still had not changed. 

“Sir?” Alexander approached the desk and waved his hand in front of the principal’s face. No reaction. 

He picked up a piece of paper on the desk that was addressed to him. 

“I’ve made you head coach, please see yourself out at the completion of your speech,” Alexander read. 

He poked Howe’s shoulder. The cardboard cutout of himself that Howe placed there fell forward. Alexander yelled and ripped the head off of the cutout. He didn’t want to be head coach…okay, yes he did…but it was the principal of the matter. Howe needed to listen to his ideas on why children should not need a uniform for practice. 

Alexander stormed out of the office and out of the school. Teachers he passed cleared the way as if someone had yelled ‘FIRE’ in a movie theatre. Alexander jumped back into the Hamilton Assault Vehicle (H.A.V) and immediately dialed Eliza to rant. She asked him to stop at the store on the way home before she even said hello. She knew. Eliza always knew. He agreed, floored it and began his rant with “YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE…“

If Alexander had looked in his rearview mirror he would have seen Principal Howe gleefully running in a zigzag across the football field, cackling in delight at his self-declared ingenious escape plan. It was the most elaborate one yet. For the sixth time in two weeks Principal Howe decided to reward himself with an extra large ice cream cone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and so everyone is on the same page, this is about the historical figures, not the musical.


	2. Keeping Up with the Hamiltons

Chapter 2: Keeping up with the Hamiltons

Alexander turned into Eagle Scream Estates almost taking out the sign in the process. The development was the nicest in town. Each house was larger than necessary, had a two-car garage, and a large symbol of bourgeoisie nonsense aka: a yard. On the way to his house, Alexander made sure to wave to Madison who was standing next to his black SUV holding the step stool he required to get into it. He stared at Alexander with the ghost of a smile on his face until Alexander passed by. George Washington was outside, of course, and he smiled and waved enthusiastically at Alexander. George was flanked by his twelve dogs and about eight children most of which belonged to Adams. One of them was riding one of the hounds like a horse around the outside of the house. He noticed Jefferson’s daughter was painting signs for the craft fair with Martha on the porch. For some reason, people went wild for those decorative planks of painted drift wood that said things like 'Southern as Sweet Tea' or 'Live, Laugh...and Drink Wine LOL'. 

He wondered vaguely why Ben Franklin’s mailbox appeared to be moving on its own. As he drove by the mailbox said ‘THANK YOU SENPAI’ in a really loud, high-pitched voice. Alexander did not want to know. He drove as quickly as he could past Aaron Burr’s house and pulled into his own driveway. His dog greeted him at the door and attempted to bite at the shopping bags on his arms. 

“DAD, DAD CAN I GET A MOHAWK?” 

His oldest son, Philip, appeared at the top of the stairs. 

“Wha…I guess…I mean that would be pretty cool I-

“Dad, can I go to the theatre with Theo this weekend?” 

His daughter Angie walked out of the kitchen and took some of the shopping bags from him. The TV was blaring some overly happy children’s show tune in the living room.

“Wait, what is the show Angie? Where is it? Who else is going? Is Burr going to be there? Are there going to be boys there?”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Yeah of course Theo’s dad is going, do you really think he’d let her go anywhere alone? And Dad, stop being so heteronormative. You of all people should know better. I told you, I’m ace.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes and grinned at his daughter. 

“Oh god, don’t,” Angie warned. 

“Hi Ace,” Alexander said dramatically. “I’m Dad.” 

Angie covered her face with her hands and silently cursed her father to the void. 

“MOM SAID I COULDN’T GET A MOHAWK BUT I’M GOING TELL HER YOU SAID IT WAS FINE,” interrupted Philip. 

“Whoa hold on! I didn’t know she said no!”

Philip also grabbed shopping bags off of his father’s arms. 

“Are there more in the van?” he asked.

Alexander looked scandalized. “No. What have I told you kids? Two trips-

“-Are for the weak,” Angie finished. “Yeah we know. Now, is it okay? Can I go? I have to text Theo back by seven.” 

“Let’s talk about it after dinner. I have to help your mom now,” Alexander replied and followed Philip into the kitchen. 

Angie sighed, after dinner, was usually after seven.

Eliza was in the living room entertaining Alex and William with a toy in one hand and was scrolling through her iPad with the other. She held little Elizabeth on her lap. Alexander blew her a kiss and smacked the shopping bags into himself in the process. 

In the kitchen there was a huge Tupperware filled with cookies. A post-it note with a smiley face was stuck to the top. Philip and Angie helped put the groceries away. 

“Dad, why did you buy six jars of applesauce? Where is it going to go?” 

“It was on sale, Philip. We all like it, and I had coupons. Figured I might as well stock up before they ran out,” Alexander said. He took a cookie and shoved it in his mouth. “Oo made ‘em? Dolley? Abigail?”

“Oh, those,” Angie said and gathered all the plastic bags to put away into The Big Bag under the sink. “Mr. Jefferson dropped them off a few hours ago.”

Alexander spit organic split-grain oatmeal sun dried raisin quinoa cookie all over the kitchen counter. 

“EW, Dad!” 

He dramatically ran to the sink, sprayed the water directly into his mouth, and blotted his tongue with a paper towel. 

“You know how Jefferson’s cooking is!” 

“I don’t know, I kind of like them?” Philip said and took two from the container. 

Alexander gasped. “Pip, how could you? Next you are going to ask for soy burgers.” 

“What’s wrong with soy burgers?” Angie asked. 

“WE EAT FOOD IN THIS HOUSE, ANGELICA.”

“SOY IS FOOD DAD, IT’S GOOD FOR YOU.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, Eliza, do you hear this? They are going to eat the macaroni and cheese and join his weird cult.” 

“Alexander, its not a cult, its…support group. I think,” Eliza said as she entered the kitchen. She had the battle holster around her waist equipped with bottles, pacifiers, diapers, rags, a blanket, wipes, toys and other stuff that Alexander couldn’t remember even though he wore the thing just as much as she did. It was just one more of her works of organizational genius. 

Eliza accidentally put her hand in the cookie mess Alexander had expelled from his mouth. “Ew, was William out here?”

“…No. That was me…”

Eliza gave him The Look: level two. The Look had various degrees of severity ranging from amusing spousal annoyance to watch-the-fuck-out-mamma-bear-has-been-unleashed.

Alexander cleaned the mess and the two of them made dinner. Alexander and Eliza loved cooking together and often made it into a competition that involved chopping vegetables at speeds that not even a master chef would approve and of course a lot of ridiculous music and dancing that embarrassed the kids. Alexander and Eliza were very conscious of this and made sure to increase the level of embarrassing dancing whenever the kids had friends over. Once they performed a choreographed routine to 'I Just Can’t Wait to be King' from the Lion King and neither Philip, Eliza or John invited anyone over to the house again for three months. They all sat down at the tables and all was well until Angie noticed an empty chair. 

“Where’s James?” Angie asked. 

Alexander and Eliza took a quick child inventory to make sure they hadn’t miscounted or that an extra chair hadn’t been left from the last time they had guests. However, it was not so. James was indeed missing. 

“Not again,” Alexander groaned. “Its Wednesday today, isn’t it? He always escapes on a Wednesday. Why? How does he know, he’s six! Is he internally programmed to flee the house every third day of the week?”

Eliza stood up, pushed her chair back from the table and blew the whistle around her neck. The eldest kids snapped to attention. 

“Right. Angie, call Theo and Abby and ask them to look around their yard, then go ask at the Washington’s, you know he likes to go there. Philip, Cannon Street and the stream, John—Jefferson’s garden and the dog park. Double back and then check the main road. Take a flashlight in case it gets dark. Take the snacks in case you need to lure him out with food, and take your cell phones and report in every five minutes. I will be in the H.A.V. with your father. AND GO!” 

She blew the whistle again and the Hamiltons scatted in all directions. 

“We always find him, he will be fine, right?” said Alexander and he tossed the keys to Eliza and the hurried into the H.A.V. with the toddlers and baby. 

Eliza was in total battle mom mode. She nodded and squeezed his hand reassuringly without taking her eyes off of the neighborhood streets. 

Eliza’s phone lit up and Alexander read the texts from their children. 

“He’s not at the dog park or at George and Martha’s,” Alexander read. He put the phone down and sighed. “I know we always find him but what if-

“We will find him.”

“But-“

“We will find him.”

Alexander sat quietly as Eliza made another loop around the development. More texts arrived, all negative. 

“Eliza, we-

There was suddenly a prolonged high-pitched scream followed by a lower pitched bellow and then simultaneous high and low harmonious shrieks of horror. 

Eliza slammed on the breaks, Alexander almost went through the windshield. She apologized and drove in reverse all the way to the source of the scream: The Adams’ house.


End file.
